


A Last First Date

by Sohotthateveryonedied



Series: I See Dead People [3]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Angst, But he doesn't know that, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Crying, F/M, Fake Character Death, Grief, His girlfriend is dead and it's sad, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Like, Mourning, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Tim Sees Dead People, Tim's not coping well, WE know she's not dead, Well - Freeform, at all, but lowkey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-17 22:14:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21700582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sohotthateveryonedied/pseuds/Sohotthateveryonedied
Summary: Tim goes to talk to Stephanie for the first time after her death. Strap in, folks.
Relationships: Stephanie Brown/Tim Drake
Series: I See Dead People [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1557490
Comments: 30
Kudos: 459





	A Last First Date

**Author's Note:**

> We're all well aware that Steph only faked her death, but Tim doesn't know that. So what's going to happen when he tries to find her ghost and she doesn't show up? 
> 
> ANGST HAPPENS, THAT'S WHAT. 
> 
> Happy reading, pardners!

Tim hardly remembers the funeral. Nothing solid filters through his hazy memories of the day aside from Cass holding his hand on the car ride there and the sound of Mrs. Brown’s sobs as her daughter was laid to rest. Even Bruce shed a few tears.    
  
If only Tim could tell them. Tell them all that  _ no one  _ is laid to rest—not really. That the ghosts surrounding them writhe and wail for eternity, making Tim’s life a living hell every time he skimps on his meds.    
  
In all honesty, he doesn’t know what awaits the dead. The ones who disappear and reappear as they please—he doesn’t know where they go when he can’t see them. Heaven? Hell? Purgatory? None of them or all?    
  
He hopes Stephanie went somewhere nice. She is _ (was) _ good, through and through. She deserves to be happy, even in death.    
  
At the funeral, Tim hung back from the other mourners. Stayed in the shadows and observed the service from a distance like some creeper, watching Steph’s mom and Cass cry their hearts out from afar.    
  
When Bruce asked, Tim told him he simply wasn’t handling his emotions well. After having Darla, Steph,  _ and  _ his dad ripped from his life so suddenly, Tim considers it a minor miracle he didn’t die of dehydration from crying so much. He couldn’t bring himself to join the rest of Steph’s loved ones and infect them with his depressive spiral. He was three funerals mashed into one.    
  
That was what he told Bruce, at least, and it was true. At this point, Tim’s capacity to process everything that happened has been reduced to the frailty of a twig. He’s surprised he hasn’t snapped yet.    
  
But most of all, Tim didn’t want to see  _ her.  _ Stephanie. The love of his life, dead and lifeless. Not her body; the wake was closed casket, of course. All those injuries from Black Mask’s torture on display would have been a gruesome sight.    
  
But her ghost? That was a different story. Tim knew that if he saw Steph’s spirit lingering as they buried her, the tears would have come and they wouldn’t have stopped until he collapsed.    
  
He couldn’t face her; not like this. Not at a time when it felt as though someone had sliced him open with a scalpel and taken out all of the most important pieces of his soul before sewing him back up like a ragdoll.    
  
He can’t even remember his last words to her. How awful is Tim that he can’t recall the last time he  _ spoke _ to his girlfriend before she died? It was on his list. In the back of his mind, he always planned to call. To apologize. To mend the frayed patch in their relationship.    
  
While he scrambled to maintain a normal life, Tim always knew that eventually he would talk to Stephanie and everything would be okay again.  _ They  _ would be okay. But then the gang war happened, and the world was thrown into chaos. Tim’s list got longer.    
  
But still, he always  _ planned _ to talk to her. He was just...too late. Always too late.    
  
Tim waits until what he’s fairly certain is three weeks after the funeral. (Three and a half, maybe?) He stopped keeping track of the passage of time the second Bruce told him the truth about Stephanie on that rooftop. And then again, the second that boomerang stuck itself in his father’s chest. The seconds everything fell apart, one loss after the other.    
  
Tim gets out of bed early, before sunrise. Not like he was sleeping, anyhow. He showers and dresses in a blue button-down and one of his nicer pairs of jeans. It’s the first time in days he’s worn something that isn’t sweats or a pair of Dick’s old pajamas. He even brushes his hair.    
  
Tim’s phone buzzes, but he doesn’t need to look to know who it is. Everyone’s been texting him nonstop since they heard the dual terrible news.    
  
**_Ives [11:37PM]_ ** _ Dude, I just got a new laptop! Wanna come over and help me set it up? Take your mind off stuff?  _ _   
_ _   
_ **_Kon [12:24AM]_ ** _ hey buddy, what’s up? haven’t heard from you in a while  _ _   
_ _   
_ **_Gar [03:13AM]_ ** _ Just checking in, you doing okay man? When are you coming back to the tower? (Everyone says hi!!)  _ _   
_ _   
_ **_Cassie [05:07AM]_ ** _ Bart won’t stop complaining to me about you going off the map. We’re all starting to get worried, so call me back whenever you can ok <3 _   
  
Tim turns his phone off and buries it deep in the drawer of his nightstand. Then his gaze lingers on the bottle of pills beside his alarm clock. He throws that in the drawer as well.    
  
When he goes downstairs, he finds Alfred already awake and starting on breakfast while one of his old Sinatra CDs plays in the background. “Master Tim,” he greets Tim warmly. “It’s refreshing to see you up and out of bed for once. Another day and I would have resorted to an ice bucket. Breakfast?”   
  
Tim cuts a direct path to the coffee machine, which Alfred—bless his heart—has already started on a fresh brew. Tim grabs a travel mug, talking as he pours. “Sorry, Alf, but I’m getting a head start on the day. Errands to run and all that.”    
  
Alfred’s forehead creases, and he gives Tim a suspicious once-over. Takes in the freshly-washed hair, the clean clothes, the rare absence of tear tracks on his cheeks. “You seem more...chipper than usual. Did I forget a holiday?”   
  
Tim pours an unholy amount of Splenda into his coffee. “Just meeting up with an old friend.”    
  
Technically not a lie.    
  
Tim borrows one of Bruce’s more toned-down cars and takes a detour to the nearest flower shop. After some deliberation, he purchases a bouquet of daffodils—the biggest one they have.    
  
After that it’s only a short drive to the cemetery. As expected, the place is deserted aside from a murder of theme-obedient crows clustered on the grass. Tim knew the only way to get some alone time would be to go before the grounds opened for the day. After all, it wouldn’t be much of a date if there were a bunch of other mourners standing around watching a crazy guy talk to himself for several hours.    
  
Tim hops the fence with ease, taking care not to let the flowers rumple. He ignores the ghosts mulling around and retraces his steps back to where the funeral was held; off to the side near that one oak tree. When he arrives, an instinctive chill runs over Tim’s skin as he takes in the sight of Stephanie Brown’s final resting place.    
  
The burial site is still fresh, the dirt loose. All around Stephanie’s headstone are old knick knacks and vases of flowers—each from a special person in Steph’s short life. People who Tim was looking forward to meeting, wanting to be in every aspect of Steph’s life he could worm his way into. What must it be like, to be one of them? To know they will ever see their Stephanie Brown ever again?    
  
Is Tim lucky to be an exception to the rule of nature? He should  _ feel  _ lucky, right? When Tim loses someone he loves, they’re never truly gone. Just...a little farther away than they used to be.    
  
But it’s still  _ death  _ at its core _.  _ It’s still  _ loss,  _ as halfway as it is.    
  
Never again is Tim going to fight side-by-side with the girl of his dreams. Never feel her breath tickle his face as she leans in for a kiss. No more dates or parties or trips to the zoo. No more holding hands at the park or napping in Steph’s bed while she absently taps piano notes on his wrist.    
  
It’s like a physical weight in Tim’s chest, reminding him constantly that things will never be the same again, no matter how hard he tries to reassure himself that at least this is  _ something.  _ At least he still has her soul to keep, if not the rest of her.    
  
And Tim knows how silly it must look to an outside observer. He and Steph weren’t married, weren’t bonded by anything more solid than the necklace he bought Steph for her last birthday or the promise ring she gave him for his. He knows Steph was just his girlfriend, but there was nothing  _ just  _ about her.    
  
The unsettled earth shifts under Tim’s shoes as he stands in front of her grave.  _ Stephanie Brown, Beloved Daughter.  _   
  
Tim wants to write  _ “and hero”  _ on a post-it and stick it on the headstone for everyone to see. To let them know that Steph gave  _ everything  _ for Gotham and the people in it—even her life. They have no idea what an incredible hero she was, right to the bitter end.    
  
He stands there, palms clammy and mouth dry, and wishes he knew what to say. What to  _ do.  _ The only other time Tim summoned someone on purpose was the first time he met Jason Todd. Any time after that it was always the ghosts finding  _ him.  _ _   
_ _   
_ His mother tracked him down once or twice, but he never went out of his way to dredge up  _ that  _ complicated relationship. And Jason didn’t stop following Tim around until the day he disappeared for good. Any effort Tim made to find him after that was fruitless.   
  
But he’s been off his meds for three days, and the voices of the damned have been flooding in like a torrential downpour all morning. So, against every instinct, Tim stops fighting it. He takes down his mind’s subconscious barriers and lets them in, no matter how loud the horde is or how much it aches.    
  
Tim closes his eyes and concentrates. Opens himself up to the billions of souls in the hope that the one he wants will find her way through.    
  
After a minute or so, that telltale tingle rings over Tim’s skin, and the temperature around him dips. For the first time in weeks, Tim smiles. “Steph,” he whispers. He opens his eyes, expecting to see her standing in front of him, wispy and dead but still perfect in every way.    
  
Except she’s not there. She’s not there at all.    
  
“Steph?” Tim calls. “Are you here? I—I brought you flowers.” He lifts the bouquet, scanning the cemetery. Weird. With Jason, it only took a few seconds for him to appear. “I was thinking about getting you an eggplant or something, but I doubted anyone who came here to visit later on would get the joke.” A chuckle scrapes up his throat.    
  
Wind whistles through the branches of the oak tree. But there’s no response.    
  
“I’m sorry I didn’t come earlier. It’s been...a rough couple of weeks.” Tim scratches the back of his neck. “My dad, actually...h-he died a little after you did. And that...that sucked. Honestly, it’s been hell just trying to cope with all of it. Losing you and him was—it was—”    
  
He clears his throat. “Anyway, I’m here now. And I know I kept this whole ghost-seeing thing a secret from you and that was probably a shitty thing to do, but at least we can still be together now, right? We haven’t lost each other.”   
  
He waits for the sound of her voice to float to his ears. Waits for her spirit to appear over the grave like it should, because he can  _ feel  _ his power working. If Steph’s spirit is out there, she should have materialized by now.    
  
“Steph,” Tim tries again, less confident now. A knot sticks in his throat, making the next words hurt. “I get it if you’re—if you’re mad that I wasn’t there for you. I  _ tried, _ I really did. I was on my way to see you when Bruce found me on the hospital roof and told me...told me…”   
  
Tears prick at his eyes now, and his vocal cords might as well be made of sandpaper. “I miss you,” he says. “I miss you so,  _ so  _ much. I don’t know what to do without you, and I just—I really want to talk to you again.  _ Please,  _ Steph.” The last part comes out as a whimper.    
  
Why isn’t she here? Tim’s power isn’t broken—he can  _ feel  _ the current running underneath his skin. He’s been off his medication for days. She should  _ be  _ here.    
  
A tear falls down his cheek. “Are you mad at me? I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me and that things were so weird between us before that, but I’m here  _ now.  _ Can’t you just talk to me?” He closes his eyes, the tears falling unimpeded now as he focuses every ounce of energy he has into conjuring her.  _ “Please,  _ Stephanie. Please, please,  _ please  _ come back to me. I just want to see your face again.”    
  
Tim was worried before he came here that Steph would be upset with him for abandoning her when she died and for all the times before, but it was always a certainty that she’d at least  _ show up.  _ Does she really hate him that much? Enough to ignore him for eternity?    
  
When first he learned of Stephanie’s death, it had felt like Tim’s heart was being squeezed repeatedly until the blood drained and the empty muscle throbbed like a fresh wound. But even then, Tim knew that wasn’t  _ it.  _ There was always the small comfort that at least he’d  _ see her again.  _   
  
The flowers slip from his fingers and land on the ground beside him. Tim’s knees follow soon after. “I’m so sorry, Steph, please—please don’t leave me.” His voice cracks on a sob.    
  
“Please come back.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for absorbing my words! If you comment and tell me what song's stuck in your head right now, I probably won't listen to it but it's still fun getting to talk about music so have at it I guess. 
> 
> [Feel free to mosey on down to my Tumblr!](http://sohotthateveryonedied.tumblr.com/)


End file.
